Empty brick factories were falling down around her. Glory days abandoned. Hungry souls watched from every broken window.

The black thigh highs were balled up in the same hand with her clutch. They were only a couple shades darker than the tone of her bare thighs. The spikes she’d been wearing dangled from the other hand.

It was a couple more hours to sunrise, and the cement still held remnants of yesterday’s heat. The sidewalk felt raw on her feet. Organic, somehow. All she had to do was navigate the broken glass and make it to her car.

Her muscles were singing with the kind of ache that rides the border between sweet and painful. Her pussy and rim were battered and raw – taken and used beyond her natural resilience - while her panties were clean and dry, almost as crisp as the moment she’d pulled them on hours earlier. They’d come off too soon to become tainted with the sticky evidence of her body and soul’s conspiracy.

Of all the risks she’d taken over the past several hours, this was the deepest of all: being out here alone on streets that never made the news. Being recognized would be enough to bring the palace walls down on her head.

The car was somewhere in a two or three block radius of the warehouse she’d just walked out of. She didn’t care. It was somewhere. Just like she was.

Somewhere.

No.

Somewhere else.

Encroaching gentrification of the nearly abandoned district hadn’t spread this far. From here, it was hard to imagine how the world ever brought itself back to life every day. But she decided it didn’t. It only brought itself temporarily out of the coma it lived in.

After circling a few blocks, she started to panic, afraid she was getting further away from her car. The streets only looked empty. She didn’t trust the shadows, and the prospect of being recognized weighed heavily. She was in the last place she ever needed to get lost.

When she spotted her car further down the block she was standing on, her nervous breathing quickly turned into a moment of sheer petrification. There was a large man leaning against the trunk. He was mostly in shadow, but a moment after she stopped in her tracks he moved off the car and stood under the street light where she could see his face.

It was Freeman. She hadn’t forgotten about him, but when she left the warehouse, she needed room to breathe more than the safety he’d been hired to provide. She was supposed to let him walk her back to her car instead of sneaking out on her own. And now, probably all he really wanted was to get paid.

She continued walking. Approaching him.

“Don’t worry. You’ll get your money. I wasn’t running out on you,” she said as she drew close.

“It’s not about the cash. You’re not exactly hard to find. You should’ve waited. It was foolish to walk back here on your own.”

“Yeah. Foolish.” She looked down at her clutch and opened it, fishing inside for the envelope.

“You hire me to keep you safe, but then do everything you can to make it difficult.”

She handed him the envelope. There were twenty hundred dollar bills inside it.

“Enjoy the show?” she asked as he snapped the envelope into his hand, then jammed it into the back pocket of his jeans.

He gazed at her face with a neutral expression. He hadn’t looked so neutral an hour ago. Naked as the others. Blending in as requested. His cock standing ripe and hard. Yet his face had been as impassive as it was now. His eyes had been on the others as much as on her, watching for the slightest misstep in a chorus line of blunders.

“Is that what that was? A show?”

“Mhmm.” She nodded. Amused and skeptical. “You were the biggest, hardest, nastiest looking dick in the room.”

His eyes narrowed while he studied her face. “You said blend in. Make it look good. Don’t look like the hired help.”

“Good job,” she said in a drawling purr without a shred of warmth.

At the time, she’d started to wish he hadn’t been on the payroll, that he’d just been one more of the anonymous cocks Sirita had helped her line up for the night. The last thing she’d been thinking about was her safety or anonymity. She remembered the way he’d been standing over her, off to the side as if waiting his turn.

“Truth be told,” she confessed, “you were actually a total professional.”

“Ma’am?”

“You never tried to fuck me. You could’ve any time and I’m quite sure you knew that. An extra little perq of the job. You never even finished yourself off. I dunno. Maybe you don’t like driving a car with too many miles on it. Or maybe the upholstery isn’t your style.”

She cocked her hip and rested a fist on it, shoes dangling off one finger, not fully expecting him to take the bait. Nothing in his expression or body language changed. There was no heart in any of her taunts anyway. Everything but her soul was aching. That part was every bit as numb and empty as she’d gone there to make it.

He was doing a half reasonable job of trying not to look irritated.

“Well you did your duty, Captain America,” she finally said, understanding what he was waiting for.

“Not until you get in that car and start the engine. Only then do I get to go home.”

She nodded and lowered her head, moving to the driver’s side of her car. She unlocked it, but instead of getting in, she tossed her clutch, balled up stockings and shoes onto the seat and shut the door again, leaning back against it. She was facing into the deserted street. The heat of the pavement felt good. Even the grit under the soles of her feet.

Freeman waited. Doing his duty without a word. Despite his annoying boy scout manners and sense of responsibility, she was glad he was still there.

“Somebody waiting for you at home?”

“Ma’am, you really ought to just get in the car and go home. The longer you stay out here in the open the more you risk someone coming along and recognizing you.”

Considering the hour and neighborhood, the possibility seemed monumentally remote. Right now it was all about winding down, and the last place she wanted to go was home. She wasn’t even sure where that was anymore.

She touched her bare thighs, lightly raking her fingers upward, lifting the short hem of her aqua party dress above her hips. One hand moved over the shape of her pussy in those still fresh panties. The dull ache of the pounding she’d had felt sublime. Better than the pounding itself, but the pounding was the only way she knew to get there. It reminded her she was alive. It was better than being the senseless, smiling zombie she played the rest of the time.

Freeman moved in front of her, blocking her from the empty street. He raised his beefy arms, trapping her between them as he laid his hands on the roof of the car.

“It only takes one car to drive by at the wrong time,” he said. “Just one. You came down here and had your little walk on the wild side. Get the rebellion against your perfect life out of your system. Whatever. Maybe you just needed to flip the emotional bird at somebody. You’re probably gonna see things differently once the sun comes up. Get in the car and go home.”

She listened to his little speech with her eyes on his chest. Most of what he said was right. Everything except the part about her perfect life. Down here, everything made more sense. Down here, she could rely on the men around her to be predictable.

For a moment, she wanted to break down and confess her sins. Instead, she put her hand between his thighs and cupped his flesh. It seemed like the whole point of confessing your sins was to purge the last ones and then commit new ones.

“Don’t do this,” he told her while her hand clutched at the substance of his cock and balls in his pants. “You keep pushing, comes a point I’m gonna have to just push back. I won’t have a choice anymore.”

“We all have our point of no return.” She smiled up at him while she drew his zipper down and reached inside, fishing into his briefs for his cock. He didn’t move to stop her.

“Where’s yours?” There was a patina of sarcasm in his tone.

“I live at the center of it.”

After being repeatedly fucked by six men she’d never met before, her ass and pussy felt like something battered and tossed on the sidewalk to be taken away. Yet Freeman’s cock responded quickly to her touch, and the raw folds of her pussy began to flush and thicken with fresh heat.

A moment later, she had his swollen shaft out of his pants. She remembered how he’d looked earlier in the warehouse as his flesh continued to grow and harden in the stroke of her slender hands.

Their eyes remained locked. When she felt the oozing precum wet her fingers, his expression started to soften around the edges. He felt enormous between her hands, as if the feel didn’t match her visual memory. Then he touched her face. The gesture surprised her, and she wasn’t sure whether she liked it or not.

“I see now who it was you hired me to protect you from,” he said. “And it’s not those guys back at the warehouse. You might’ve given them the illusion of owning you for a couple of hours, but lets face it, you were eating them up alive. You’re the only one you need protection from.”

She wondered if she were as transparent to the people close to her daily existence. Then she had to wonder whether or not she cared. Her entire life had always been about going through the motions. Even her forays into scenes like the one in the warehouse earlier. It might’ve been contrary motion, but it was aimless motion nonetheless.

No matter what he said, Freeman’s cock felt every inch as solid as it had looked earlier. Since she started fondling him, the hem of her dress had fallen back into place. She’d taken it off inside, before the group started playing with her. It remained as fresh and crisp as her panties, but now Freeman’s cock was spotting the front of it with precum, and her pussy was quickly dampening the gusset of her panties.

His right hand moved off the top of the car and down over her body. He squeezed at the fullness of her breast, forcing the swell to pop out above the low-cut neckline, and then moving down over her hip to her thigh. He pushed the hem up and cupped his hand over her panty-covered mound. His fingers slid deeper into the snug gap between her thighs, grinding lightly into the soft puff of her aroused sex lips through the lace.

“This how you protect me from my big, bad self?” Her nipples started to burn as a thick finger slipped past the strip of lace separating her slit from his touch. Now it was all finger and slippery cunt flesh. His finger. Her flesh. A rush of steaming dew lathered everything.

“At least four cocks blasted cum inside this fuckhole,” he said evenly, his finger delving into her cream lacquered sheath. “Two more in and around your mouth. I saw you lapping out at it all with your tongue…like…”

“Like some kinda cum hungry bitch?” she completed.

He quickly brought his left hand to her throat, holding her firmly without constricting. He knew his strength, and she was sure he rarely ever lost control of it.

“Don’t. Ever. Say. That. Word. Around. Me.”

His finger shoved deeper into her pussy, holding and curling, gently massaging the inner wall of her body. He was touching her right in the sweet spot while the unexpected fire in his tone touched everywhere else. She averted her gaze, even with his hand still on her neck.

“I live in a prison of false courtesy,” she said.

He pushed a second finger into her pussy beside the first. Both drew back to thrust inside again and curl.

“Maybe,” he said, his fingers settling into a steady pump and curl inside her. “What kind of courtesy do you call walking around with a cunt full of strangers’ spunk? I think your mouth must still taste of cocks and cum. And I’m sure you didn’t miss the point that in everything going on back there, nobody bothered kissing you.”

“They were instructed not to. That’s only for someone you care about.”

“Like your fiancé? The one who happens to be running for a seat in the Senate? I can see how much you care about him.”

She was about to tell him her fiancé was none of his fucking business, but the sudden notion that Chandler Mayne was everyone’s business made her hesitate. She’d figured out some time ago he didn’t love her any more than he loved his campaign manager. Their marriage would be his key to black voters.

“I am not a political statement. I’m a living thing.”

Then his mouth was covering hers, taking her lips with the kind of hungry force she could understand. His tongue swept deeply into her mouth and she pushed hers into his. She tightened her grip on his prodigious cock, stroking his shaft while she lifted her dress higher to be able to feel the touch of his oozing hardness on her skin.

Pure instinct was kicking in, and it felt like a drug she’d never tried before. She threw herself into the driving force of his kiss just when he backed off and broke it.

“Yeah,” he said. “You really do still taste of cock. And deep down, you wanted someone to know. Someone to taste what you think are the worst of your sins.”

He pulled his fingers out of her pussy and brought them to her mouth. He painted her lush lips with her own juices and then pushed his fingers into her mouth.

“Now you know what your pussy tastes like when it’s been polluted with the spunk of a few strangers who don’t give a fuck what happens to you after. Or maybe you already knew.”

She wasn’t about to tell him she didn’t. Or that she’d never been with more than two others at once before tonight. She felt the urge to tell him things she wouldn’t even tell Sirita, but her voice wouldn’t work, and maybe that was just as well. Like he’d said himself, the sun would be up soon and everything would change.

“Just fuck me,” she finally forced out.

“What kind of pig do think I am?” he said, almost grinning, almost sneering, but not quite committing to either expression. “What makes you think I’d ever put my cock in a nasty, spunk-filled trough like your cunt?”

“Because you’ve been thinking about it for the last three hours,” she said. “Or was that big, nasty hard on for all the boys?”

Freeman started laughing. It was deep and genuine. “You know, I never bought that prim, sweet routine you put on for the media. Even so, I never expected to end up liking you.”

“You’re not supposed to.”

“Yeah. I know.”

He took her by the wrist and led her to the back of her car, then pulled the bottom of her dress around her hips and told her to sit up on the trunk. If anyone drove by he could easily hide her from view, and the chance of a cop driving by was about nil.

“Take off your panties.” She did. “Now give them to me.” She did that too. He held them to his face and inhaled deeply, then looked her in the eye. “If there was a flower smelled like that I’d plant a fucking garden.”

He shoved her panties in his back pocket, then loosened his belt and pushed his pants below his hips. He stroked himself a moment or two, casting a couple of darting glances at the street, but mainly looking at her. His eyes were admiring, but perhaps more curious than anything else.

He wasn’t looking at the Ileana Barron everyone saw on television or all over the social media pages. Nor was he looking at the arcane, craven cockwhore from the scene in the warehouse. He was looking at whatever she was right now, this thing she became in between the other extremes. She could feel it all in the weight of his eyes. She was anonymous, neither one nor the other. Just a woman sprawled across the back of her car an hour before dawn on a street no one had cared about for years.

She was herself, and it felt as if she were being introduced for the first time.

“Spread that cunt for me,” he said. She did. “Take my cock in your other hand and plug me into you.” She did that too. “You were right,” he added as he pushed his cock into the aching, gang-fucked soreness of her pussy. “I wanted to fuck you. Back then. And now. And for none of the reasons you ever imagined.”

Reasons didn’t matter anymore. She leaned back and rubbed her clit as she watched his face and felt the hot, thick press of his cock deepening inside her. He planted his palms against the metal. He wasn’t guarding her anymore. The smile on his lips told a story of deep contentment.

She could feel it too.

Inch

by hot,

submerging

inch.